Kaleidoscope
by jivvin
Summary: A series of stand-alone oneshots centered around Bruce Banner and Tony Stark, each taking place in a different Alternate Universe: Hogwarts, Zombies, High-School, Fairy Tales etc. Ratings and warnings change per chapter.
1. Hogwarts

A/N: Welcome. This is a first installment of a series of not-connected AU fics centered on Tony Stark and Bruce Banner's friendship, inspired by the horrormoans' Challenge on Infinite Earths. The first chapter is a Harry Potter AU, but written by a person who did not read the books, so I apologize for any inaccuracies or something. (Also grammar and spelling. Sorry about those too)

I have a few chapters pre-written, so for some time updates are gonna be sorta regular.

* * *

_Gonna Be Pals_

It was first couple of minutes of peace and quiet Bruce Banner has got in the last few days. He was sitting in an unoccupied compartment of the train that will bring him to his new school, Hogwarts Castle, and trying desperately to distract himself by reading a book.

It was all just so _huge_ for him. Sure, he has got his letter some time ago, but it was still sort of hard to wrap his head around the fact that _magic existed_. Add to it the fact that he had to leave Aunt Susan and the home he was only now starting to get used to, and…

"Hi there!" the door to the compartment opened with a sudden and sharp _fwoosh_ that made Bruce literally jump in his seat. A dark haired boy Bruce's age with a pet cage and a silvery pack in his hand and a small backpack over his shoulder stepped through. His gaze quickly swept around the place and finally settled on Bruce. "So, it's not really empty, but I guess that'll do for now," he said, dropping both the backpack and the cage on one of the seats.

"I'm Antonius Stark, but you can totally call me Tony," he then added, reaching out with an open palm. When Bruce failed to react in the next few seconds, the boy chuckled and came even a step closer. "What's wrong with you? I don't bite." Bruce really doubted that last part, but was too afraid of inadvertently hurting Tony's feelings, and so he outstretched his hand for a brief handshake.

Tony smiled, releasing Bruce's hand, and fell – rather graciously – on the opposite seat, taking something from the silvery pack and popping it in his mouth in one fluid motion. "So, what's your name?"

"Bruce."

"What kind of name is that?" he asked with a light scoff. Bruce didn't like his tone. It reminded him too much of the boys from his school, both the first _and_ the second ones. He hoped this new school would be different, but in retrospect it was a pretty silly assumption: there were bullies in all the schools in the world, and all of them considered Bruce fair game, which he probably was.

"I like it," was all he said. Not quite an exclamation, but a bit louder than his usual voice.

It only made Tony chuckle amiably again.

"Relax, I'm just joking. Bruce it is then. Bruce…"

"Bruce Banner."

"Banner? I don't quite remember… Are your folks from Edinburgh? There were Banners there, I think, hexers, right? I know almost everyone worth knowing, comes with being a Stark…" the boy rambled, his expression and voice confident, smug even.

"No, they're not from Scotland…"

"Yeah, right, you do sound more Irish I guess. There is… Lemont O'Banyon in Ireland, herbalist or whatever, some relation of yours?"

"No…"

"Good! I don't really remember, but I think that he's a jerk. Or maybe just Gryffindor, who knows." He then stopped, as abruptly as he began, and grinned at Bruce, looking like he was about to share a secret. "I'm gonna be a Slytherin, you know. Yep. Everyone in my family is."

"That's… great," Bruce said, hoping that it was the answer the other boy expected.

"What about you?" Tony asked immediately.

"What about me?"

"Who do you wanna be? Or who do you think you're _gonna_ be? You kinda look like a Hufflepuff material. All… dorky and stuff."

Bruce was still not really sure what was going on (and why he was spoken to in the first place), so he gave out a noncommittal "umm" sound that Tony apparently chose to interpret as reluctance.

"Come on, spill. Hufflepuff isn't_ that_ bad," he encouraged, and then leaned forward, outstretching a hand with the silvery pack inside it, putting it almost under Bruce's nose. "Beans?"

Bruce started just a bit at the unexpected offer (as well as the intrusion of his personal space), but reached into the pack, fumbling with it awkwardly for a moment, and took out a single jelly bean. It tasted like blueberry.

"So?" Tony prompted.

"I… I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you are talking about," Bruce apologized, a weak smile on his lips.

"Houses, slowpoke!" Tony exclaimed in a slightly exasperated tone. "Haven't you really ever thought where you're gonna go?"

"No," Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I think I will go wherever they tell me to." Whatever Tony was talking about, he was sure that it was actually the adults' decision, and he was _not_ going to argue with the adults.

"That's lame," Tony grimaced, but did not press the matter. He popped a few more jelly beans into his mouth and turned to look out the window. He was silent for exactly a minute and forty-four seconds. "What are you reading?"

"Brief History of Time," Bruce replied dutifully, taking his eyes from the book he has only just resumed reading.

"Is it Cassandra Vablatsky?" came Tony's eager question. "You're into that whole divination stuff?"

"No, it's Stephen Hawking."

"Never heard of him. What's it about?"

"Well, time… and space. And stars, and black holes…"

"Never heard of those either."

Bruce was used to kids his age being easily bored with all the "science stuff" he was into, so he was just going to say something like "never mind" or "whatever", but Tony's face was nothing but open and full of sincere curiosity, and somehow Bruce found himself explaining.

"Oh, a black hole is… you know, if a star gets too big and too heavy, it sort of collapses in on itself, and turns into this tiny ball that has this huge pull that prevents everything, even light, from escaping it. That's why it is called 'black' hole…"

"Wow, that's some awesome magic!" the other boy exclaimed, his eyes wide in surprise.

"That's not magic," Bruce said incredulously, "it's physics."

Now it was Tony's turn to be incredulous. "What, you mean like the Muggle science?" he asked, squinting just a little, as if in disbelief. "That's a weird hobby to have. I mean, I'm okay with it if you're okay with it," he amended quickly, throwing his hands up in the air as a pre-emptive gesture of peace. Bruce briefly considered that, for a bully, the boy was incredibly… considerate.

"I like it," he shrugged.

"Well then that's great! You're gonna tell me all about it later," Tony smiled, and then went on, his voice serious and excited at the same time. "We're _so_ gonna be pals. That's it, that's my executive decision for you. I mean, you're obviously not a Slytherin, but I can compromise. I'm not a _total_ jerk, thank you very much," he said, as if defending himself from some invisible accusers.

"I don't think you are," Bruce replied quietly. Tony wanted to be his friend. Wow. They knew each other for, like, ten minutes or something, and Tony offered him jelly beans, and listened to his science talk, and said that they were going to be friends, even though Bruce wasn't a "slytherin", whatever that was. _That_ was real magic.

"That's right!" Tony laughed, looking a little surprised himself. "I knew you were cool, even if you're into that whole Muggle nonsense." He chuckled once again, then sort of jumped in his seat and picked up the expensive looking cage from it, bringing it a little closer to Bruce's eyes. In there was a huge black rat that tried clumsily to fit its pointed muzzle between the bars. "See this?" Tony asked. "It's Dummy. I called him that 'cause he's really dense, even for a rat. He can be pretty fun though. Where's your pet?" he craned his neck this way and that, looking around the compartment.

"I don't have any," Bruce confessed, feeling suddenly very awkward about it. "I'm… not really good with… pets."

"Bummer," Tony pursed his lips for a second and put the cage back down on the seat next to him. "But I think you'll change your mind. Pets are cool. I'm totally gonna learn to conjure some weird ones later on. Even if there's no such spell, I'm gonna invent one, 'cause that's what we Starks do. Enchantment industry, we _invent _magic," he said with an incredibly smug smirk.

"That sounds very interesting," Bruce agreed.

"That's _awesome_, Bruce, that's the best thing a wizard can do, and no-one except us is doing it. Well, you're gonna be doing it too," the boy corrected, "'cause we're totally doing it together, you know? Your folks are gonna be hella proud," he added with the tone of importance.

Bruce shifted in his seat again, hiding his eyes. "I… don't think so."

"Why's that?"

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it when nothing came out. He squirmed, his throat tight, eyes blinking rapidly, looking anywhere but on Tony. He needed to tell the truth, if only to prevent the boy from ever bringing that up again, if only to protect himself from future pain and embarrassment.

"I…" he started in a weak, strangled voice, and had to swallow and start again. "My parents are, they're… my…"

He hated himself for it. He was a big boy, he was _eleven_, for crying out loud, and Aunt Susan said he was the smartest boy in their whole school, and it happened _three years ago_, why can't he just…

"Oh," Tony said suddenly, his face somber, and his voice uncharacteristically quiet. Bruce did not dare to lift his eyes on him though, afraid that seeing pity, or even sympathy on someone will actually make him cry. "I'm sorry, man. That's why you're… a little out of it? I mean, with the Houses and stuff… they didn't get to tell you much, huh?"

"No, they… knew nothing about it," Bruce frowned, surprised and relieved that the conversation took such a turn. A few more minutes, and the lump in his throat will disappear completely. "And I knew nothing about it. There was a letter at my windowsill on my birthday, and then this lady showed up and told me I was a wizard and…"

The expression on Tony's face turned weird.

"You're a Muggle-born?" the boy asked in a pointed, careful manner.

"Well, yeah, I mean, my parents were normal people, and my aunt is normal too and…" Tony didn't look like his exuberant, ramble-y, sincere self anymore, but instead so confused and vaguely… _something_, and it scared Bruce all of a sudden. Did he screw it all up? "Is that a bad thing?" he inquired timidly.

"N-no," Tony smiled slowly, crookedly, and it looked more strained than his previous smiles. "No, it's… You're my pal, right? I'm Tony Stark, and all my pals are top quality," he chuckled awkwardly, confusion still lingering in his features. "So, you're… good."

"Good," Bruce smiled in return, happy that he didn't screw this after all.

"Good," Tony repeated. He remained silent for a few moments after this, but it wasn't even a full minute before Bruce heard the rustling of a foil paper and saw the small silvery pack almost under his nose. "Beans?"

"Thanks."

The rest of the ride was spent in friendly banter, and Bruce talking about black holes and the Big Bang, and Tony talking about Slytherins and enchantments and a thing called "the Sorting Hat". There were so many things about the magic world Bruce just didn't understand yet, and he didn't really know what will await him in this new school, but he was sure of one thing.

It was a good beginning.

* * *

A/N: a little background on the world: Tony is an almost typical Slytherin here, an heir to the wealthy and proud family, meaning that straight from the crib he was pumped full of the House pride bullshit and a set of those ridiculous prejudices against Muggles and mudbloods and whatnot. But, at the same time, he's got himself an extreme case of Lonely Rich Kid, and is desperate for a friendship outside of the circle of the typical stuck up Slytherin assholes. And yeah, Bruce is totally gonna be a kickass Ravenclaw.

I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you have time.

_Next time in Kaleidoscope: Zombies!_


	2. Zombies

A/N: As promised, a Zombie AU.

Warnings: language, minor violence, mentions of attempted suicide.

* * *

_Won't Feel A Thing_

"What the hell happened?" was the first thing Tony cried out.

He was on his way to the labs for some tools he forgot to take this morning when he heard a single roar and the dull pounding ahead. Instantly quickening his pace, he lunged forward and around the corner of a corridor until he reached the doors to the chemistry lab and saw Barton leaning on it heavily with his back, breathing ragged and eyes wide.

"Fuck if I know!" the man yelled in reply. "I came to check on him, and he was just standing there, shaking, with a gun in his hand, and the next thing I know he's already changing!"

"Fuck!" Tony swore, rubbing his forehead, just as another _thud_ rocked the closed door. He did a quick mental headcount: Rogers and Thornton were out searching for supplies, and Romanoff – in one of the break rooms on this floor, with her leg in a cast. Not perfect. "Can Romanoff move on her own?" he asked Barton.

"Not very quickly," the guy shrugged in reply.

_Thud_. The door was not going to last.

"Then help her get to the basement. I'll handle him."

Barton nodded and stepped away. Only he didn't actually go anywhere, taking out a sawn-off rifle from the holster on his belt.

"I'll help you."

"Put that thing the fuck down, Barton, I said I'll handle him!" Tony almost hollered in reply.

Another _thud_, louder one, accompanied by the cracking wood and the champing growl.

"Fuck that!" Clint's voice was thick with anger. "He's too dangerous, and you know it! He's already almost bitten Tasha once, I'm not gonna wait 'til he eats one of us in our sleep!"

That's when the door burst into splinters, and the minutely distraction was enough for Tony to grab the rifle from Barton's hands and push the man down the corridor.

"Get Romanoff to the basement!" he yelled, content that the only response he got was the sound of the footsteps running away. Barton knew the priorities.

And so did Tony. His were standing in front of him right now, among the remains of the door, seething and growling and insatiably _hungry_.

It was two months since the world ended – a Zombie Apocalypse, as Barton often referred to it, and roughly two weeks since their mismatched group of survivors barricaded themselves away in the Culver University's Natural Sciences Building, united by one Dr. Bruce Banner's inspiring idea: "We should look for a cure." The work didn't go particularly fast though, mostly due to the facts that a lot of the equipment was damaged, and Bruce wasn't even a biologist but a nuclear physicist and, well…

A zombie.

A superhumanly strong, deathly pale (with a greenish tint) and frighteningly single-minded creature that now stood in the ruined doorway, its only thought being "feed" and its only prey being Tony.

"Hey there, big guy," was all Tony's whispered before turning around and rushing away, _the fuck_ away from the thing.

A human can't outrun a zombie. That's a simple fact of life that you either learned early on or died uneducated. But that wasn't Tony's goal – he had just to lure Br- _the creature_ to some safe place. The acoustics lab (that doubled as Bruce's room) was the best choice: it was close, open and had a reinforced door (the reason Bruce picked it as his room in the first place).

Tony didn't look back. He didn't have to – he heard the thing's screeching growls behind him, knew that it smelled his fear and adrenaline and would not drop the chase unless some other, simpler target could be found. The engineer felt its touch, barely there, on his shoulder and doubled his speed, rounding the corner and storming in the lab in a few lightning fast steps.

The place was mostly empty: they had moved all of the equipment to the different rooms, which now proved especially useful for Tony, who has reached the far wall and was turning back to the door, plotting his escape route.

The creature crashed into the metal doorframe in its hurry to get into the lab, but did not let even a grunt out. Instead it growled, low and menacing, the sound boiling up deep in its throat as it slowed down a little on the way to its cornered prey. Its face was a waxy, scowling mask of bared teeth and glazed over eyes, but the thing that scared the engineer the most were the fucking glasses. Pristinely clean, scratched wire-rims with a tiny crack on the left lens. It was _not_ Bruce Banner, and yet still it _was_.

Tony pushed the thought ruthlessly away, and instead got a better grip on Barton's saw-off. He needed to get out of the lab, which meant getting past Br- _the thing_, which meant somehow distracting its attention for a couple of seconds – long enough to get around it. There was only one plan of action that immediately came to mind, and no time to think of another, and so Tony shouldered his rifle and let out a single shot in the creature's leg.

"Sorry, buddy," he muttered, dashing to the right, hitting the thing's head with a buttstock for good measure. It howled, with anger more than pain, and wriggled to catch Tony's forearm in an iron grip.

Too close. _Too close_. Tony had to react _now_, and so he gripped Barton's rifle with both hands and slammed it in the creature's face, jerking his hand at the same time with all the strength he had left, ripping the fabric of his shirt. He was in the corridor in less than two seconds, and the last thing he saw before clicking the door shut were the shards of Bruce's glasses all over the thing's face.

Tony pressed his back to the door and slid down it slowly, until he was sitting on the floor, head hung low, fingers interlaced on the back of it. He heard the thing rage back in the lab, hurling itself against the door and the walls, grumbling and growling in helpless anguish. Doesn't matter, the door will hold. Now he just had to wait until it tires itself down, and then he can come collect his friend.

Because yeah, Bruce Banner was special, and not only because he put up with Tony's shit (and even seemed to enjoy it) and understood his science babbling, but also in no small part due to him being a bloodthirsty zombie only part time.

The details were hazy, even to Bruce himself. He only told the rest of them what he remembered: him and a couple of his biologist friends, including his fiancé, working in the radiation lab of the University on the Z-Day, then some commotion, a creeper bursting in, Bruce being bitten, then something wrong going off in the Gamma Pulse machine, a searing green light… waking up to find everyone he ever knew dead, and himself infected.

There was a catch though – Bruce's particular case of the virus (most likely altered by the radiation) worked in sort of cycles, dormant most of the time, until released into his systems along with the high enough dose of adrenaline. It made things difficult, to be sure, since it prohibited the man from feeling strong emotions and being under stress in general, which was… well, virtually impossible to achieve with the 90% of the Earth's population dead and another 8% trying to eat you.

Still, he managed. Tony had absolutely no idea how, but Bruce managed, devoted every waking moment to finding the cure, which was _not_ an easy task even with Tony's help, and had a lot of _incredibly_ stressful setbacks and…

"…_just standing there, shaking, with a gun in his hand…"_

Wait, a gun? The reason Bruce transformed… it couldn't be…

Tony was distracted from his thoughts by a quiet, painful moan coming from behind the metal door. Not hungry, just… hurt. He jumped to his feet instantly, unlocked the door and stepped into the lab, spotting his friend right away in the middle of it, lying face down on the floor, trembling. He quickly picked up a heavy blanked from Bruce's makeshift bed in the corner and put it around the man's shoulders, prompting him gently to sit up.

Bruce flinched reflectively at the touch, excessive sensitivity and confusion of the afterchange mixed with his ever-present fear of unintentionally infecting someone, to which Tony just somewhat tightened his grip on the man's shoulders and whispered in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

"Easy there, buddy. See, a blanket, I'm not touching you."

"Is everyone…" Bruce croaked out, running a hand over his eyes, sweeping away the tiny fractures of glass stuck in his skin. Tony noticed that there was no major damage both to the man's head or his leg, even though it was probably due to the virus' increased healing rather than the weakness of Tony's blows.

"Cool, all's cool," he reassured quietly. "Barton got all trigger-happy for a moment, but it's all good now."

"I… I'm so…"

"Shut it, Banner. The new strain, it didn't work?"

"No."

"And you, uh… Barton said you had a gun… did you want to, uh…"

"Yeah."

So Tony was right then.

"Look, Bruce, it's…"

"Stupid, I know."

"That's not what I was going to say."

"That's how it is," the physicist sighed heavily. He did a couple of deep breaths, in and out, before speaking up again in rushed, but subdued, muffled voice. "I just… it's so hard, you can't even imagine what it's like. The burning, the pain, the… the hunger. But I thought… I can make it worth it, you know, if I found a cure it would all have been worth it, but I can't, I didn't mean, but I _p-panicked_, Tony, please, you have to understand..." he pleaded, looking anywhere but on his friend.

"I understand," Tony said simply. For a minute or so he just sat there, arms tight around Banner's shoulders, the ghost of the bloodhungry creature in the air between them. Then suddenly he was speaking again. "You know that MRI scanner in the basement?" he asked with an obviously forced light-heartedness. "I got a little deeper into it this morning, and I'm pretty sure I can fix it. You'll have additional data for the research, Rogers and Thornton will bring in more subjects, and we'll crack it the next time. We'll save the world. Save you, buddy."

Banner did not reply for a couple of minutes, and when he did his voice was low and resigned.

"You do realize that even if we…"

"When," Tony corrected decidedly.

"_When_ we find it, all the data suggests that… It's a retro-virus, Tony, the thing that affects them, the c-creepers, it's complicated as all hell, but it _can_ be counteracted, at least theoretically, but I… I'm not like that. I don't even _know_ what I am, but the thing is I don't even care anymore," Bruce said, finally lifting his eyes at Tony, defeat written in them clearly.

"So what, you gonna just give up?" Tony asked, but it came out wrong, harsher than he intended, much more raw and hurt than he ever wanted to let out.

And Bruce reacted to that, of course, jumped up and away from the engineer, discarding the blanket, and for some excruciatingly long seconds simply breathed, loud and slow, simply stared, hard and angry, at the other man. It should have scared Tony, he knew, it should have scared him into leaving (_running the fuck away_), seeing Bruce struggling for control like that, but all he could actually see was the living, vibrant _brown _of Bruce's eyes and the bleeding little wounds around them. _We'll have to find him some new glasses soon_…

Bruce's face was a blank, rigid mask.

"Don't you _dare,_" the man hissed, and then took another quick breath to calm himself. "After the accident, I woke up with my fiancé's _flesh_ stuck between my _teeth_. I can hear every drop of blood being pumped through your _heart_, your very _smell_ makes my mouth water. It… _burns_. I _don't_ want to... be this _thing_. If- _when_ we find a cure for them, I am _not_ going to…"

"I'll do it," Tony said all of a sudden, surprising them both.

"What?" Bruce screwed his eyes a bit in confusion, and Tony imagined those little wounds turning into little scars.

"If you are right and the cure won't work on you, if there really, _absolutely_ will not be a hope left, you will not have to do it yourself," he said evenly, and immediately realized that he meant it. Hated it, but meant all the same.

It took Bruce some time to absorb Tony's words. "You don't…" he murmured uncertainly after a heavy pause, looking anywhere but on Tony. "I'm okay with that, you know I've already…"

"Don't," the engineer cut him off with a grimace. "If, and only _if_ there is no other way… I'll make it quick, not like your..." he gestured vaguely in the direction of Bruce's arms, and the physicist hurried to hide the rough scars self-consciously behind his back. "Near the temple, you won't even feel a thing."

Another pregnant pause settled over them, filled with nothing but breathing and wondering when it all went so horribly wrong. Tony thought that it was probably an another life when he finally looked at Bruce again and saw a faint, wistful smile form on his lips and heard his quiet, barely audible murmur.

"That would be nice."

* * *

A/N: don't think it really needs any background this time.

I really hope it wasn't actively horrible, so, please, leave a comment if you have time.

_Next time in Kaleidoscope: High School!_


	3. High School

A/N: Yeah, I know, thousands of them. Had to be done still.

* * *

_Not Crazy_

The vibrant green numbers on the clock on his nightstand showed 12:24 a.m. Bruce took off the glasses, ran a hand over his face and put away the book he'd been reading for the tomorrow History test. It was too late, and he doubted he will actually remember anything at this rate. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, smirking along the way as a thought came to his mind that he was probably the only one studying right now. Most of his class was now undoubtedly drinking away margaritas at the ridiculously lavish birthday party at Tony's house.

Not that he wasn't invited, mind you, because he _was_. Tony stated explicitly (and more than once) that Bruce was welcome at his home anytime, especially today, but Bruce had to politely decline. Such large gatherings of almost-strangers tended to exhaust him rather quickly, and he definitely wasn't in the mood for getting drunk.

A sharp _buzz_ cut through the air and made Bruce flinch in surprise.

He spat the lather into the sink and wiped the corner of his mouth with a towel before heading out for the door. The buzz hasn't stopped for a second though, as if someone pressed the doorbell and forgot to take the finger away. Bruce took a quick look through a sight hole, shook his head and opened the door.

"Tony?" he said, and his tone sounded much more like an accusation than an honest question.

"Heeey Bruce, how ya doin' there?" Tony drawled, finally letting go of the doorbell.

"Are you drunk?" Bruce sighed, even though the answer was pretty obvious.

"Who, me? Naaaah," Tony grinned and swung a hand in a gesture of denial, but lost his balance halfway through and would have toppled right there in the doorframe if Bruce haven't reached out and caught him by the shoulders.

"For the love of… come on, get in quickly," he said, urging his friend inside and closing the door with his foot. "Sit," he instructed after landing Tony on the couch without much grace and moving towards the kitchen area. "I'll get you some water now, it'll help."

"Don't you have, like, s'me beer there?"

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"_No_."

Bruce took a bottle of water from the fridge, unscrewed the cap and handed it to Tony. "Drink. You're so lucky Susan's already left for the night shift, she _so _wouldn't have liked you like this."

Tony took a couple of long moments to gulp the water, then a couple more to fumble while trying to set the bottle on the coffee table without knocking it over with his own fingers. Only after he was completely satisfied with the bottle's position and steadiness did he look at Bruce with a grin on his face.

"Pshh, your aunt loves me, Brucey. She's so kiiind and niiice, just like my mom… _could've been_," he added bitterly, then sighed and fell back on the cushions of the couch, throwing back his head, staring at the ceiling. "I think I'm in love with her."

"Your mom?" Bruce asked in confusion as he sat near Tony.

"No, _Su_san."

"But you have just told me you think of her as a mother figure," Bruce said, an amused tone to his voice. "Isn't being in love with her making it all a little weird? Like, Oedipus complex weird?"

Tony slowly rolled his neck on the back of the couch until he faced Bruce. His eyes were squinted, and his lips were moving soundlessly as if trying to start a sentence but never quite going through with it.

"I don't follow you," he finally said, his expression tired and a little suspicious.

It only made Bruce remember how tired he was himself, and he ran a hand over his face, trying to pry out some answers from the boy before he completely checked out for the night.

"Aren't you supposed to be throwing some kind of giant party at your place right now?"

"Sure. 'Tis still going on, I think. Like, _lots_ of people."

This was not quite as substantial an answer as Bruce hoped to hear, but the phrasing and the sour look on Tony's face told him everything he needed to know.

"I take it Mr. and Mrs. Stark aren't there though?" he asked carefully. They left for some business trip a week before, but promised to return for the birthday, and even though Tony actively pretended he didn't give a damn one way or the other, Bruce knew the other boy had eagerly awaited their return up until that very morning.

"We are _very sorry_, Tony, but these investors are of _extreme import'nce_ for the _company_, and our presence is _absolutely required_," Tony slowly articulated with all the precision he could manage. His face was a scowl, and he reached for the bottle on the table to take a large swig, and almost started coughing when the liquid in it turned out to be only water.

"I'm sorry they couldn't make it, Tony," Bruce said softly. "I'm sure they did their best to get home but just…"

"_What_ever," the boy interrupted. "Yanno, sometimes I kinda envy you with the whole 'no parents' thing, like, just being a fucking orphan and not having to put up with this bullshit, like who the fuck do they think they are, like…" he went on until his eyes landed on Bruce, and he saw something on his friend's face (something Bruce was already trying to cover up) that made his eyes go wide and his voice break in a stutter as he reached out clumsily to grasp Bruce's shoulders. "Shit, fuck, no, Bruce, not like that, don't be- I didn't mean it like that, I mean…"

"I know, Tony. It's alright," Bruce forced a smile on his face and tried to gently get Tony's hands (and his sickening, alcoholic smell) off himself.

Tony let out an exasperated groan as he flopped back on the cushions and closed his eyes with his hand.

"I just… I should, like, stop caring or whatever, but it still… sucks, I dunno…"

"Of course you care. They're your parents," Bruce said, getting up and walking once more towards the kitchen area.

"_Please_, Brucey," Tony raised his voice slightly, but did not move his head. "I think by now _you_ are more of a parent t'me then they are."

"Don't be ridiculous," Bruce said tiredly and put a plate and a fork on the coffee table in front of Tony. "Now, eat it. It is chicken, and yes it is cold, it's supposed to be cold, so come on."

"What, no cake?"

"No, Tony, there's no cake."

Tony stared at the dish for a couple long moments before raising his big, pleading eyes on Bruce.

"I don' wanna."

"Do you want to have a hangover tomorrow instead?" Bruce asked. Tony frowned, as if actually considering this, so Bruce just sighed and pushed the plate a little closer to the other boy. "Just eat it, Tony. Was there no food at the party?"

"It was a _party_," Tony said acidly, but took the fork and started to break the meat into small bits. "It had _drinks_."

"Why did you leave then? More importantly, why did you come _here_?"

Tony took some time to stuff his mouth with chicken, but didn't bother to chew it before he started talking. "It was just all so dull. Like, all those guys and girls and that dog… _thing_ and their stupid bullshit, it was just so _dull_ and _boring_ and… dull."

"As opposed to me?" Bruce chuckled lightly. Tony never passed an opportunity to point out just how 'boring' Bruce was himself with his 'glasses and books, and introvertedness, and the whole boring-ass shtick'.

The other boy just shrugged, wolfing down the chicken with somewhat comical single-mindedness.

"Where's your remote?" he asked suddenly, looking at Bruce, his cheeks full and all chipmunk-like.

"Here," Bruce handed him the device, and Tony stared at it in abject confusion before his eyebrows shot up and he pressed the 'on' button with utmost care. The television flicked to life at that, and formed a picture of some TV-show or another, with some woman punching some man in the face.

"Ooh. Get 'im, girl!" Tony cried out in encouragement, bits of chicken and spittle flying out of his mouth. "This show's craazy."

"What is it?"

"Hell if I know. You sure there's no beer?"

"Yes, Tony, I'm sure."

Tony finished off the last of the chicken and looked at the empty plate with a grimace.

"I'm pretty sure 'm gonna throw it all up later."

"It's quite possible," Bruce agreed.

For some time Tony just sat there, staring blindly at the screen.

"It's my birthday t'day," he said quietly after a while.

"Happy birthday, Tony."

"I'm seventeen. Yanno, if I actually listened to ol' Howard and applied to emm-eye-tee after the middle school I'd be now graduating it. Huh."

"You regret staying for the high school?"

There was another pause before Tony spoke. "Yeah. It's just so… slow and dull and stupid. Like, I can talk all I want, but I can't _talk_ to them," he shook his head. "Don't it just make you wanna _scream_ s'metimes?"

"No," Bruce lied with a smile.

Tony leaned a little closer to Bruce at that, looked right into his eyes and frowned, as if in confusion. "How d'you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Y're just as smart as I am," he said in an incredulous tone. "Smarter, maybe…"

"It only seems like that because I talk less."

"Nah, y're like…" he struggled for words, tried to fish them out of thin air with wide swipes of his hand. "Y're not crazy," he finally said in a loud exhale, shaking his head from side to side.

"What?"

"No, y're not, like, they _say_ that but they don't _know_ you…"

"Who's saying what?" Bruce frowned.

"Yanno, like when I came here, and they were saying y're like local nutjob and you like tried t' blow up your school and killed your parents with a knife or s'mething and police couldn't prove a thing and they just don't _care_, yanno, but y're not crazy, Bruce," Tony shrugged after delivering the whole sentence in one swift, somewhat garbled breath.

For a minute or two Bruce just stared. It was true that he was a loner and kept to himself, and that it probably gave people a lot to speculate about, but…

"Thanks," he whispered at the other boy in bewilderment.

Tony made no indication that he heard what Bruce has said, all of his attention on the TV-screen where the girl from before was now having coffee with the guy she previously punched.

"I don' think I know what this show is about," Tony said after some time.

Bruce sighed and looked at the time. It was almost 1 a.m.

"I think it's time for you to sleep, Tony. Come on," he said, getting up from the couch and extending a hand for his friend. "Did you tell anyone you were coming here?"

"Yeah, told Jarvis. No police won't be coming over, no worries…" Tony took the offered hand, jerked himself upwards and lost all balance immediately afterwards, falling back on the couch and almost dragging Bruce along. He let out a laugh that quickly descended into a giggle, so light and infectious that it made Bruce chuckle in turn.

"Great, 'cause really, the last time was pretty enough for me," he grinned and helped Tony get up once again. Taking a firm hold of his shoulder, he carefully guided the boy to the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. "Take off your shoes before you lie down."

Tony looked around the room with a (what now felt like permanent) confused scowl before setting his gaze on Bruce.

"Wait wait is this your room?"

"No, Tony, it's a guest room," Bruce sighed.

"Nooo, it's yooour room," Tony drawled, pointing an accusing finger at Bruce, "I know it, like, these are your glasses, and that is the poster of that guy, what's-'is-name…"

"Yeah, you got me, Tony, this is my room," Bruce threw his hands up in defeat. "Now, take off your shoes and lie down."

"An' where you gonna sleep?"

"In the guest room, Tony," Bruce said softly. It seemed enough to convince Tony, so he proceeded to shrug off his jacked, fold it (or try to with questionable success) over the headboard and toe off his snickers before flopping on his back with exaggerated tiredness and a loud huff. Bruce also found it funny how Tony noticed that Bruce was lying about it being the guest room, but did not seem to remember that Bruce's apartment _had_ no guest room to begin with.

"Yanno, you can be scary s'metimes," Tony said to the ceiling. "I mean, y're kinda like a grown-up, an' y're fucked up but 're a good guy. Like, how are you not an asshole like me?"

For a second time this evening Bruce was taken aback. It was definitely not the first time he saw the other boy drunk (not even the first time Tony barged into Bruce's home in that condition), but it was the first time he saw him get so verbal and… candid while under the influence.

"You're not an asshole, Tony," Bruce said in the same soft manner. _And I'm not a good guy_, he wanted to add, but stopped himself. This evening was about Tony's problems, not his.

"Oh I am. I am a baaad guuuuuy, Brucee_eeey_!" Tony wailed at the top of his lungs, and Bruce cringed, conscious of the late hour and the possibility of disgruntled neighbors. "I'm such an ass," he added helplessly.

"Tony…" Bruce started, then waved a hand in front of Tony's face to get the boy's wandering gaze on himself again. "Tony. We've known each other for almost a year, right? During all that time, was there ever an instance in which you were an ass and I didn't call you out on it?"

Tony squinted and looked like he was actually giving this question some thought.

"No," he finally said. "Y'can be really annoying that way."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, and now I'm telling you, Tony Stark, that you are not a bad guy, okay? You are not a bad guy."

"Okay," Tony said, sounding unsure, like he was saying it more for Bruce's benefit.

"Now go to sleep," Bruce heaved a sigh that was dangerously close to a yawn. "See you tomorrow."

Tony mumbled something unintelligible under his nose as he turned to the side and cocooned himself in a thick woolen blanket, and Bruce walked quietly out of the room. The whole situation was weird, but he tried to pay it little mind: after all, come morning, Tony will probably forget at least half the things he blabbered today. And if not, then he will probably pretend so either way.

Bruce was too tired to overthink it. He spread out the couch that was usually Aunt Susan's bed, threw a blanket on it and walked towards the wall to turn off the light. As he was putting his hand on a switch, he heard some shuffling from the bedroom, and a sleepy, unsteady shout, muffled by the wall and, most certainly, a layer of blanket.

"AND THE CHICKEN WAS GOOD, BRUUUCE! YOU HEAR ME, IT WAS REALLY GOOD!"

* * *

A/N: So, in this one, Tony never went to MIT, but instead transferred to a school Bruce was already attending. And they became bros, like, instantly. And yeah, there was a time when Tony got ridiculously drunk, that resulted in a police squad barging into Bruce's apartment in the middle of the night, and it was not funny at all.

I really hope my attempts at humor did not scare you away, so, please, leave a comment if you have time.

_Next time in Kaleidoscope: Family!_


	4. Family

A/N: so, the prompt said "an AU where the characters are the members of the same family". It takes place shortly after Howard and Maria Stark's death in 1991.

* * *

_Just Like His_

Stark Mansion, New York

1991

There was a man standing in front of Tony, and he presented a threat to everything Tony knew and, arguably, loved.

"I think I will leave you boys alone for this one," Obie said, giving the file to Tony, and leaned a little bit closer to add "Get 'im," in a harsh whisper. He sent Tony one last crooked smile before exiting the room, leaving the matters in Tony's hands. But that was just how the young man wanted it.

He opened the file and gave it a quick look.

"So you're Robert Giles, Rebecca Giles's son?" he said, lifting the eyes at the other man.

"It's actually Banner. Bruce, if you don't mind."

The guy didn't _look_ threatening. Far from that. In fact, the first word that came to Tony's mind upon looking at him was 'pity', and then 'pathetic' right after. The messy hair, the nerdy glasses, the mismatched, ill-fitting clothes, the hunched posture and the quiet, slightly mumbling voice…

_How in hell is living mess here an actual relative of mine?_

"It says 'Robert' here."

"My full name's Robert Bruce. But yes, I am her only son," the mess nodded, then took a small step forward and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark, and you have my condolences for…"

"Yeah, well, okay, let's make some things clear first, Robert or Bruce or who the fuck cares," Tony said harshly, discarding the file but making no movements in the other man's direction. "You. Do not. Have any. Rights. _To the company_. I'll even be extra generous and repeat it for you one more time: old man might've passed down a couple of genes to you, but that _in no way_ means you can lay any kind of claims on the Stark Industries."

The guy's expression became a little bit more strained, but he lowered his hand and took a small step back.

"I assure you, Mr. Stark, that I have no interest in the Stark Industries," he said in a perfectly controlled voice. The whole… _lack _of attitude or any attempts to argue at all caught Tony by a bit of a surprise, and it took him a second to school his features back into an expression of lazy superiority.

"That's _right_," he grinned. "Now, he did leave you some money still, so…"

"I can also assure you that I am not interested in anything Mr. Stark senior might have left me."

"What, are you rich or something? 'Cause you sure don't look like it."

"No, I am not rich."

"Proud then? Yeah, old man was like that too," Tony regarded the guy for a couple of seconds. There was something about him he just _liked_, but tried to consciously squash in a preemptive strike against further inevitable disappointment. The whole '_turns out Howard had a family on the side and I only find out about it now that he's dead_' thing was bad enough, and Tony wasn't going to exacerbate it by liking the bastard (a literal one at that). "How often did you see each other?" he asked casually, taking a bottle of scotch from the desk's drawer and pouring himself a glass. "Want some?"

"Thank you, I don't drink."

"Whatever. So what, did he actually remember about your birthdays? Science fairs? Sports matches or whatever you were into?"

"I wouldn't say so," the guy shrugged, his face still tense. "Look, Mr. Stark, I got a call yesterday asking me to come here in the matters of inheritance. So I came to renounce any and all claims to such. Are there any papers I need to sign or something?"

Tony took a big gulp of the scotch, then set the glass away and looked a little closer at the other man. "Wait a sec here, big guy. You say you're not rich, and I can get pride, _believe_ me I can get it, but there's pride and then there's _stupidity_. I mean, sure, compared to my fortune that's like a drop in the sea, but that's still lots of money. What did Dad ever do to you to make you throw away that much cash?"

"Precisely that. Nothing," Giles (_or was it Banner?_) said, his tone cold as ice. "As far as I know, the only time Howard Stark and I met was a couple of days after my birth, when he visited my mother in a hospital. He told her that he was marrying another woman and was not going to see my mother again. He was true to his word."

Tony winced. He imagined some sort of a "double life" plot, Dad lying to Mother, having a mistress and another son or some shit. Howard really didn't spend a lot of his precious time on Tony (_or_ Maria, for that matter), so it wasn't at all a stretch for the young man to believe that he spent it on _someone_ instead. That, however… that was a whole new level.

"Well, he did remember her still," Tony tried, unsure. "I mean, there's something left for her too here."

"You're kidding me," the guy deadpanned, then shook his head and bit his lip in a sort of a nervous tic gesture. "Good 'memory', isn't it – my mother's been dead for fourteen years."

"Oh," was all that Tony managed to get out at first. Suddenly, his reasons for disliking the 'other son' were much more dim and vague than at the beginning of the conversation. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, it's not like he was a really good father to me either, so maybe you haven't actually lost much."

"Do you know how to bandage wounds and set joints right?" Banner asked, looking away.

"Uh, no?" _Where did_ that _come from?_

"Then maybe he wasn't all bad after all," he said quietly.

And just like that, Tony didn't see 'pity' anymore, or 'pathetic'. The clothes were still horrible, the glasses still nerdy, and the guy still stood out like a sore thumb in Howard's red wood paneled old study, but all his quirks and oddities now added up to something else entirely.

"Did your mother raise you alone?" Tony asked before he could stop himself to consider _why_ he is asking this rather personal question of a guy he was dead set to hate only a couple of minutes ago.

"No," Banner frowned, confused about it just as much. "She married a man when I was about a year. That's why it's Banner, not Giles. Then there was my aunt and her husband, after Brian was... taken away."

"You go to some kind of college or something? Work?"

"I got into med school, but had to drop out after the sophomore year," he said, then bit his lip again, and Tony noticed him wringing his hands too. "Health… health problems. I've got a couple of jobs now. Manage."

"And you still don't want to take the money?"

Banner just shrugged, going more for indifferent then defensive this time around. "I don't see how I have any right for any of it. Howard Stark wasn't a father to me, not for a day. And as you said yourself, a couple of shared genes do not mean that…"

"Yeah, well, I say a lot of things," Tony amended hastily and picked up the glass again, taking a sip. "Like that time I said to my curator that an electron-positron collision can actually realistically produce a Higgs boson, and he looked at me sort of like I just confessed to him of being a Young Earth enthusiast or something."

"But it can," Banner frowned. "Produce the boson, I mean. The particle accelerator should be huge, of course, but it's theo… What?"

Tony realized that he _might_ be staring just a tiny bit at the other man. "You said you went to med school."

"I did," Banner nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Mom always wanted for me to be a doctor. But I always liked physics and mathematics, so I research and write some stuff for myself from time to time."

"Just what stuff exactly are we talking about?"

"Not much. Teachers used to tell me it was gibberish."

"What do _they_ know," Tony scoffed. "You think someone believed in me when I started building Dum-E? My robot," he elaborated.

"Oh, I remember that article, it was in an MIT magazine, wasn't it? An incredible design."

There was a tiny smile on Banner's face as he said that, a light smile of a fond memory. A thought struck Tony all of a sudden, and he peeked into the file quickly, conforming what he already knew: the age difference between them was only a year. Ten months, to be precise. Banner managed to look so much older than that though.

"It was," Tony smiled in return. There was a plan already forming in his head, but he needed just a couple more details to flesh it out. "Now, do you have a place in the city?"

"I rent a room," Banner said, visibly unsure of where this was going.

"Relatives? Girlfriend, boyfriend, whatever?"

"No, not since… no."

"Cool," Tony took another sip from his glass and set it on the desk again. "Look, I get it that you're angry with old Howard, it's totally cool, and that you've been sort of screwed over by him, and your mom too, big time, and you're kinda probably hate me by association, or just because I'm rich and handsome or who even knows with you, but the important question is: how do you feel about California?"

"What that… has to do with anything?"

"I asked first."

"It's… okay. I've lived there for a while, and I've got an aunt and a cousin in LA, but what's it…"

"I've been thinking of moving away lately," Tony began simply, moving to stand near the windows. "With the folks gone I'm the big boss, so I'm thinking of going closer to the roots, so to speak, closer to the company. Sure, Obie'll help me along the way, but it's ultimately _my_ responsibility. And the mansion's huge. Not quite as the New York one, but it's still pretty _vast_, you know, we may not see each other for days if that's your thing. And I was thinking of building a new one anyway. A bit smaller, a lot more modern, right near the ocean. For the view."

"Wait, wait, you want me to… visit you in your California home or something?" Banner's face was a rather funny image of complete incomprehension with a slight suspicion mixed in.

"Visit, live, whatever," Tony shrugged. "Need a job? I can get you a job at SI, no kidding."

_There_ were the wringing hands again. "You… You want to… wait, you want to _hire_ me now – a basic stranger, an undergrad with mental issues?"

"Mental issues?"

Banner's eyes widened, like he just now realized he said something he shouldn't have. "Those health problems I've mentioned," he shifted from side to side, bit his lip. "I've been diagnosed with depressive disorder two years ago."

_Two years ago_, Tony thought. _Probably around the time he was finishing his sophomore year_. _That would explain… some things_.

"You taking pills?"

"I… should."

"Well, you still seem pretty functional."

"I also don't have higher education," the guy pressed.

"Please. I've graduated MIT at seventeen, but if you think I've attended even a half of the classes there then you're just a deluded optimist, which, no offence, you look nothing like. At all. _And_ you agree with me on the Higgs boson. I think you're smarter then you let on. Hell, maybe those genes of Howard's you got were the genius ones."

"You don't know me," Banner said, eyes hard and cold.

"Sure do. You're a fuck-up who likes physics."

"No, you literally don't know me," he went on, a bit more annoyed now, "we've met _today_, and I- the whole world knows who you are, and you want for me to believe that you're offering a 'fuck-up' like me a job or a place to live out of the goodness of your _heart_?"

"Sure there wasn't some 'paranoia' in that diagnosis of yours?" Tony said with a snort, and saw Banner clench his teeth at that, "Shut your mouth" coming out of him as a hiss.

He obviously struck a nerve with that last comment and should have _stopped_, but Tony just wasn't in the habit of doing things half-way.

"Gee, did you talk to your sweet mom like that too?"

And then all the air was rushed out of his lungs, and the windows creaked behind his back, and there were fingers squeezing at his neck.

"I said _shut up_," Banner snarled, his face inches from Tony's. "If your father didn't leave her she might still be alive today. You have no right, you hear me, no right to even…" he faltered then, and Tony could swear he heard something _click _in the guy's head, saw the light go back on behind those eyes. Dark brown eyes. Just… just like his. "Sorry. Sorry," the guy muttered, letting go of Tony's neck and taking a couple quick steps away. He started wringing his hands, than lifted one to rub at his eyes, shaking his head, mouthing something as if talking soundlessly to himself.

_Mental issues, huh?_

"Are you aware that your whole face sort of twists when you're like that?" Tony said with uneasy chuckle, massaging the throat that was sure to bloom with a couple of bruises soon. "You don't even look like yourself."

"I am aware," Banner turned to look at Tony again, all traces of agitation swiped clean from his face, his tone even and steady as always. "And I am sorry."

"Yeah, you said that," Tony shrugged simply. "So, about a job?"

"What?" Banner's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"Look, if you're so keen on knowing my reasons, I'm doing it because I can. And something about conscience. I can't just pretend you don't exist now that I've met you, so."

"Why? Your father has managed it for twenty two years."

"You know, he was _your_ father too," Tony said quietly and got a hard, bitter look for his trouble. He decided not to press this time though, and just lifted his hands in surrender. "Dad was an ass," he sighed, "and I _don't_ wanna be an ass, simple as that."

"I… can relate to that," Banner frowned after a pause. "I do. I… I would have liked to take you up on your offer, Mr. Stark, but I really don't want to make weapons." He ran a hand over his eyes again and offered Tony a weak smile. "It's just… isn't something I want my life to become."

"Pacifist?"

"Bad experience."

"Whatever. I can put you on something else. We can fucking start something else, I mean, like one of Howard's old insane projects like the… the Arc reactor or something. Energy stuff."

"That sounds great. But I need to think."

Banner still looked suspicious, all wringing hands and awkward shuffling, and Tony couldn't help but wonder if the guy was that used to people lying to him or just actually paranoid.

"Sure. I'll be in town for another week or something. You need to see me, you come here," Tony shrugged and extended a hand.

Banner looked mildly surprised for a moment, but stepped closer and shook Tony's hand in a soft but strong grip.

"You're not… what I expected you to be, Mr. Stark."

Tony wondered suddenly what _were_ Banner's previous thoughts on the 'other son' subject, and if they changed as radically as Tony's upon this conversation.

"I get that sometimes. And, Tony. It's just Tony."

"Thank you, Tony," Banner smiled.

"For what? No, really, I haven't done anything for you yet, you didn't even accept your inheritance money, so I don't really see what you're thanking me for."

It made Banner chuckle. "Goodbye," he said, backing to the door. "I'll think about what you've said."

"You better."

With that, the guy walked out, closing the door carefully behind himself, and Tony was left alone. This encounter was… bizarre, to put it mildly, and he needed a couple of minutes to center himself and actually process everything that's transpired that morning in his father's old study.

And then he picked up the phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.

"Hey, Rhodey? Guess what just happened… no, not- shut the hell up, Rhodey, and listen, 'cause I think it's pretty damn important." He laughed all of a sudden, and he'd be damned if he knew the reason behind this good mood. "I guess I've just found myself a big brother."

* * *

A/N: I both like this universe really much, and not at all. On the first hand, Bruce has got himself a semblance of family, and Tony will definitely be there for him when, in 1992, Brian Banner gets released from the mental institution. On the other hand, thanks to Bruce's influence Tony will actually start considering the change in SI course earlier on, which will make Stane take action and dispose of the threat to his reign on Tony and the company, which will most likely get Bruce killed. So yeah.

Also, I'm really into Tony perceiving Bruce as this sort of weird big brother/parental figure/actual adult sort of person, if you can't tell.

So, I really hope it was worth your time, and I'd be immensely grateful if you left a review.

_Next time in Kaleidoscope: Sex-Swap!_


	5. Sex-Swap

A/N: the prompt didn't specify if the whole 'verse should be swapped, or just the characters in question, so, for the purposes of the story, only Bruce and Tony have been swapped. I imagined something like Eva Green for Stark and Jennifer Connelly for Banner, but that's ultimately your thing.

Warning: vaguely implied past rape.

* * *

_Don't Want To Talk About It_

It took Toni some time to figure it out.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"With me or with anyone at all?"

"With anyone. But especially with you."

* * *

It was getting dark outside, that hour of the evening just before sunset that was full of contrasts, with the lighted surfaces bright in a warm orange glow, and the shadows cold in serene blues and grays. Thin drizzling rain was falling from the half-clear sky, and the air was filled with the smells of water and metal.

Still, the picturesque beauty of the weather was detracted from by the shattered glass, ploughed up asphalt and mangled, burned debris littering the streets of Detroit. All thanks to one Henry "I Didn't Know It Will Come Down to This" Pym, whose skills at robotics were even more pathetic than his completely unhealthy obsession with ants.

_Amateurs_.

On the bright side though, the scope of the destruction caused by the Pym's rogue robot was large enough to warrant the Avengers' Big Reunion, so Toni's mood wasn't completely ruined. One could argue, of course, if destruction of the Motor City's downtown and death of a dozen innocents could be classified as a 'bright' side, but what did they know.

The big battle was over, the bad guy beaten, the rain falling in tiny droplets on the dust-covered metal of the Iron Maiden suit, and Toni had only one duty left to be carried out before she could actually productively enjoy the fruits of her labour and the company of a friend that made explaining the finer points of the artificial intelligence theory to Rogers eighty-five percent more bearable.

The said friend was lying on the ground now, unconscious, near a wall in some back alley, fully human, with only torn and stretched out clothing to show for the transformation that occurred mere minutes ago. Toni actually felt the gag reflex act up upon seeing Banner in a hideously formless, oversized sweater that morning, but she supposed it did have its advantages.

She entered the alley and moved towards Banner's prone form, but stopped just a couple of steps short, because she remembered the first clue.

They all did, actually, since the experience was pretty dramatic. It happened right after the Manhattan incident, almost seven months ago, after Loki was bound, gagged and taken away to a secure SHIELD facility. It was something of a sign to relax for them all, and the next thing they saw was the Hulk backing away, tearing the door to the penthouse's bathroom off its hinges and going inside to curl on the floor and _shrink_ back to the human-sized Banner. The process was _fascinating_ to say the least, and left Toni in a momentary amazed stupor, so it was Barton who moved closer to wake Banner up from the cold tile floor, crouched near the woman and put a hand on her shoulder, presumably to shake it and elicit a reaction.

And elicit he did. Toni remembered it vividly: how Banner's eyes shot instantly open, wide and _wild_, and how she flinched so fast and sharp, trying to scramble to her feet, that she hit her head hard on the marble sink, and the combined stimuli of panic and pain were enough to set off an ugly, fit-like but quick transformation. And calming down _that_ Hulk was another story entirely.

So Toni didn't come closer. She stood there, a few feet away from the unconscious woman, and lifted her faceplate.

"Hey Banner! If only you don't seriously consider spending this dark, cold and _wet_ evening on this dark, cold and wet ground I suggest you come to quickly, so we all can get the hell out of here."

Banner's whole body shuddered at that, then flinched and pushed itself from the ground and into a wall in movements that were clearly more of a reflex than a conscious reaction. She let out a quiet moan, resting her weight against the concrete for a moment, then climbed up it clumsily to a standing position. Only then did she open her eyes, wrapped her hands tightly around herself and, still leaning heavily against the wall, looked at the other woman.

"D-did I…" she croaked, getting a hang of her voice cords.

"There were a couple of bystanders that the green girl tried to protect by pushing them away from the falling debris," Toni shrugged. "They got a bit ruffled up, but survived. Overall casualties are still being counted, but I can bet you anything they were on the Pym's boy and his 'bots."

"The team?"

"Oh please, like something can happen to them. Well, maybe something can, but _they_ are certainly not an area of my immediate concern. Speaking of…" she said, tossing a neatly folded bunch of fabric Banner's way. The woman caught it, barely, and unfolded to find a SHIELD-issue T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. "Get yourself a bit more decent, and we'll finally move out of here."

The physicist mumbled a "thank you" and smiled weakly at Toni, at which the engineer just rolled her eyes and turned around to give her friend some privacy.

"You just have to show me to the jet," she heard from behind her. "I've left my duffel there. I'll find my way once I've got it."

"Don't be ridiculous, Banner," Toni snorted. "You've gotten away with it once, but don't for a second think I will let you slip from my fingers a second time."

There was a sigh. "We've talked about this…"

"No, _you_ talked about this. I actually remember you go on and on with it until I took pity on you and agreed with the ridiculous nonsense you call your 'reasons', but did you seriously think I'll let you drag me through this again? You're coming with me to New York, honey."

"Toni," the woman sighed again, but it was closer this time, and Toni turned around to see Banner in the SHIELD clothes, her own rags discarded right there in the alley.

"Brooke," she said simply, looking the other woman straight in the eyes.

Banner held her gaze for almost a minute, but then just chuckled and shook her head. It looked more like resignation then rejection though, so Toni let a grin on her face too. And as Banner slowly, carefully walked out of the alley and stopped on the corner with her hand still on the wall for support, she came to stand by her side and pointed down the street with a nod.

"That way. Go grab your stuff, and, sure thing, you can run off to the jungle right after to sleep on the fucking moss and distribute dysentery shots. A noble goal. But if by some stroke of fancy you'll decide to spend a couple of weeks in this country's most well-equipped scientific R&D department with this country's prettiest super genius as your lab partner, then, well… I'll still be here."

* * *

"You think I'm strong, right?"

"Sure. The strongest one there is."

"I want you to keep thinking that."

* * *

If Toni was completely honest with herself, she'd admit that a tiny part of her was afraid that, left unsupervised, Banner might freak out, sneak out of the Tower and disappear into the night without anyone finding her till the next Apocalypse or something.

Not that the woman gave her a lot of reasons to think that way, mind you, but… She was complex. And quiet. And talked to herself when she thought no-one was looking. And it all may or may not have made Toni just a touch worried about leaving the building to go on a long-overdue date with Rhodey.

So she stole glances of Banner in the mirror while dealing with the make-up, and tried to keep up a conversation going.

"Only the two of you?" Banner asked. She was sitting in a large chair near the windows, feet tucked beneath her, a book in her lap.

"_Exactly_," Toni grinned, and sprayed a couple of drops of Dior's _Addict _on the pulse points under her jaw. "And then Rogers walks in, in all of his post-work out glory, and comes to us to thank me for, you know, setting up that gym in the first place, and I could pinpoint the _second_ Rhodey's face went all twisty and he began with his 'I'm sure Ms. Stark appreciates your gratitude, Captain' spiel."

"I didn't know Rhodey was the jealous type."

Toni shrugged. "Well, it's not like he's this possessive douchebag who would not have me speaking to men ever again, but I guess he just can't help himself from time to time. Not that I can blame him."

"What do you mean?" Banner frowned slightly.

"Seriously now?" Toni turned for a second to look at the woman. "I mean, clean your glasses or something, Banner, have you _seen_ Rogers after a training session? _Or_ Barton for that matter? I'm not even talking about Thor."

"I… didn't pay much attention to it, I must admit," Banner chuckled, and took off her glasses to clean them with a hem of another of her pathetically ill-fitted sweaters.

"That's because you're old and boring, my friend. Completely lost for the dating scene."

"I'm only a year older than you."

"Details."

Banner put the glasses back on and remained silent for a few moments, which Toni spent deciding between _Sunset Copper_, _Tuscan Russet_ and _Perfect Red_. "Would you go for it though?" She asked finally. "If there was no Rhodey, for example?"

Toni picked up a tube of _Sunset Copper_ lipstick and applied it in a few quick precise motions of a true professional. "No," she said, smacking her lips quickly together to better spread the pigment. "I mean, _even if_ Rogers and I got past his annoying self-righteousness and sickening boy-scout tendencies there's still a matter of an age gap."

"Too old for you?" Banner smirked.

The engineer shook her head with a smile. "I know I joke about it a lot, but… If we look at the things clearly and take away the Capsicle years, all that's left is a – what? – twenty-five or something year old boy who's almost young enough to be my son? Well _that_, honey, just ain't my kink," she shook her head for emphasis, then cocked it slightly to the side to put on the earrings. "Barton is this heavy brooding type, aaand I think there might be something going on between him and Romanoff, so. And Thor is just too… alien I suppose. And tall. He's really tall."

She took a last quick look of herself in the mirror, then stood up and carefully straightened out the miniscule folds on her dark silk dress. Finally she turned to Banner. "I'm not asking you how I look," she said simply, "because I hate to be the one to inform you, honey, but you have absolutely zero taste in these things. _And_ I know I'm gorgeous."

"You sure are," the physicist smiled, at which Toni just nodded, then threw a quick glance on the clock holo projected in the corner of the mirror.

"Rhodey's waiting downstairs," she said. "Come on, you should go say hi."

Banner squirmed a little in her chair. "Thanks, but I… I think I'd rather stay here. Have fun."

Toni frowned. "Is this because of… Hey, he's totally on your side, you know. He's not even Army, he's Air Force, they have this weird male rivalry thing going on between them, you have nothing to worry about from him. And _even if_, do you seriously think I would _let_ him do something that would endanger you in _any_ way?"

A small crooked smile appeared on Banner's face at that, and Toni noticed the fingers of her right hand brush against the knuckles of the left. "Sometimes it's not about whether you let them or not," the woman said in a deprecating manner, though it wasn't very clear exactly who was being deprecated here. "Sometimes you just can't do anything to stop it."

It was fleeting, and subtle, and something Toni could have easily forgotten or dismissed as her imagination, but for some reason it stuck.

It was the second clue.

* * *

"Talking about it does not make you weak."

"Don't make me talk about it, Toni."

* * *

The third clue came up just as suddenly, maybe a week or two later, when they were both in the lab, and Toni was retelling a story from her college years.

"…the whole pile of them, you know? And so I crouch down to pick them up, and this guy crouches down next to me to help, and passes me one of them and says: 'Those are some great schematics. Are they your boyfriend's?' I kept my cool, and silently showed him my name and my curator's signature in a corner, and he just went all: 'Oh, he probably drew them for you anyway'. I mean, can you believe it?" she shook her head in distaste.

"Oh yes, Toni, I can. Trust me, it wasn't just you."

She sighed. "And it's not even the worst thing I've ever heard. You wouldn't _believe_ some of the stuff that got hurled at me by the board of directors when I announced to them that a _daughter_ of Howard Stark was going to stand at the helm of the company instead of Obie. Hell, you wouldn't believe some of the shit Obie himself has said to me over the years. Seriously, has anyone supported _you_ when you told them you were going to study physics in college?"

Banner paused in reviewing the stream of data on her monitor. "Well, I didn't really have any friends, and all of my family was my aunt, who was happy as long as I picked something I wanted to do, be it swiping the floors or splitting the atom," she shrugged.

"Lucky. Because I tell you, you wouldn't believe… What was the worst thing a man ever told you?" Toni asked in a tone that suggested she was ready for an argument.

Banner frowned and considered the question in silence, and Toni watched her get farther and farther away with each second, then take her hands off the keyboard and start wringing them slowly, deliberately, rubbing at each knuckle in turn.

"Brooke?" Tony asked in a careful manner, making a step closer to the physicist.

Banner flinched at the sound, and touched her glasses nervously, and did not lift her eyes. "A lady like you," she murmured hastily, "shouldn't walk on these dark streets all alone. That's what he said."

And then it clicked, and Toni knew she wasn't going to leave it at that.

* * *

It took her some time. It took her some days and some nights, and some weeks and some threats and some pleading. And then it was getting dark, that hour of the evening just after sunset that was full of heavy indigo shadows and soft violet half-tones around the patches of cold electric light. There was no sun and no stars, only thick rain pouring from the clouded sky, and Banner was not looking at Toni.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"With me or with anyone at all?"

"With anyone. But especially with you."

"Why?"

A pause.

"You think I'm strong, right?"

"Sure. The strongest one there is."

"I want you to keep thinking that."

Another pause, a peal of thunder in the distance.

"Talking about it does not make you weak."

And another one, longer than before, filled with rain, and not looking, and not speaking.

"Don't make me talk about it, Toni."

"I just want to help you."

"I know."

The silence was heavy. The downpour intensified, and soon there was nothing left at all, no shadows and no dim lights either, just a massive roaring grey wall that devoured the ground and the air.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"What?"

"You don't want to talk about it, alright. What do you _want_ to talk about?"

"I… I wanted to talk to you tomorrow about an idea I had, about repurposing the Gamma Pulse technology to employ it in the clean energy research. Sort of a new spin on hydraulic fracturing, but without the water and air pollution."

"Great. Do you want to talk about it now?"

"I don't know. Maybe when the rain stops."

The thunder rumbled somewhere in the grey, gaining more strength with each peal. The Tower felt cold and exposed.

"Okay. I'll still be here."

* * *

A/N: It was actually a thing I thought about when watching The Incredible Hulk. After the reverse transformation, Banner goes hitchhiking and then enters a town, half-naked, weak and dazed, and it just got me thinking "what if there was a woman in his place? That'd probably be even more dangerous for her." Something like that. And, of course, Banner being Banner, she just represses the whole thing. But Toni's there for her either way, so.

I hope you enjoyed it, and, please, leave a comment if you have the time.

_Next time in Kaleidoscope: Allegiance-Swap!_


	6. Allegiance Swap

A/N: hey look, it's been almost two months, not that anyone cared. For those not in the know, Allegiance Swap means a "good guys are bad, bad guys are good" type of premise. The prompt didn't specify if the whole 'verse should be swapped, or just the characters in question, so, for the purposes of the story, the whole universe have been swapped.

Huge thanks to Fanny, without whom this chapter would have never seen the light of day.

Warning: graphic depictions of violence, character death.

* * *

_Much More Dangerous_

_..._

Stark Tower, New York

The sun was barely up yet, its pale light casting cold blue shadows across the sleeping city. Tony was looking at it for what felt like hours, standing near the window of the penthouse, the cigarette in his hand having died out a long time ago.

Something felt off. In these troubled hours of the morning nothing was ever set, and Tony's head was filled with the voices of the ghosts.

_We're iron mongers. We make weapons. And what we do keeps the world from falling into chaos._

Howard loved to say this. He though it his job to protect the world with the weapons so powerful and deadly humanity will never think to actually use them against each other. He thought himself the preserver of world peace, and he raised his son to be his perfect heir in this mission.

But Tony went further. He realized something Howard didn't: there was no weapon horrible enough for humanity not to use under the "right" circumstances. The only one you could trust with it is yourself, and the only logical solution to the problem is to take peacekeeping into your own hands.

And so he did. The Afghanistan Incident turned out a blessing in disguise for this noble purpose, providing Tony with a basis, and a kick, for something that will soon become the _Stark Energizer_. During its initial presentation he called it a "memorial to his father", and it certainly was – a stable, cheap source of clean energy distributed via ever growing satellite network was something Howard strived, but never actually managed to accomplish with the shackles the technology of his age has put on him.

Controlling the power supplies of the world quickly gave Tony access to the amounts of influence he needed to establish his positions – and his forces - in the key regions of the "free world". The road from there on was bloody, long, but consistently successful. The drone Iron Men – the second marvel to come out of the Incident - comprised the bulk of the Stark Peacekeeping Corps, but machines were ultimately nothing without people, and so the Corps had to expand and include the literal armies of civil peacekeeping and the Strategic World Organization for Reestablishing Democracy.

Some people called it his "empire". They branded him a tyrant, a modern conqueror, a villain. They lamented the loss of their "freedoms", as if any of them knew what to do with one when they had it. They said he conquered the world, but it wasn't what Tony himself would call it. From his point of view, it took some time, some sweat, and one hell of a lot of sacrifices, but now Anthony Stark could proudly say that he did something no-one has managed before him: he has privatized world peace. He kept the world from falling into chaos of the uncontrolled military activity.

_Almost_. Of course, there were still dissidents, stubborn imbeciles stuck in their selfish ways, and some Districts still struggled against the new order, but it was all a matter of time. They didn't see that their "resistance" was causing more casualties than a simple fucking acceptance ever would, so they kept throwing bodies at him and then blame him for the massacres they themselves provoked. But they will see. They will see, they will see he is right or…

_Shit_, Tony thought in anger, throwing the cold cigarette into the almost empty glass of whiskey on the nightstand. He was doing a good job, wasn't he? Every obstacle, every sacrifice counted. Every single body they threw at him was on _their_ hands, every fucking group of idiot "rebels" he put down was a step in the _right_ direction, and he was not going to make excuses. They will come around. They will have to. They will treat him like the fucking god's gift he is to them.

He will _make_ them to.

There was some slight disturbance behind him, and a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I told you I hate it when you smoke."

"I told you I don't care," he said without turning around.

There was a sigh, and the rustling of fabric. Tony turned his head slightly, catching a glance of Natasha's naked breasts before she bent down to pick up her bra from the floor.

"What time is it?" she asked, dragging a hand through her tousled hair. "I need to be at the 'carrier at 0900. Operation _Emerald Hills_ begins today."

She disappeared in the bathroom after that, and got out not even ten minutes later, all clean and fresh and perfectly beautiful. Days like these, it felt like she was the only beautiful thing left in Tony's life.

"Tasha, do you… do you like what you do?" he asked, eyes still on the whiskey glass.

"You mean what I'm doing with you?" she smirked, coming closer.

"No. What you do as your job."

"Of course. That's why I keep doing it," she said. "Why? Are you afraid I won't 'like' securing the specimen because some idiot General's report suggested that it should be classified as human? Please. It can turn into a thousand pound abomination, it is no more human than Xavier and his freaks," she scowled in annoyance.

"Xavier is our ally now."

"For the time being." When Tony didn't reply, she squinted her eyes a little and crossed her hands on her chest. "Wait a moment. Are you having an identity crisis?" she asked impatiently. "Because I'm not dealing with that bullshit."

"I'm not having a fucking crisis," Tony hissed at her through clenched teeth.

"Good," she frowned. "You've got a world to rule. And if it's because of the setbacks in Brazil and Ossetia, then, well, _of course_ the liberals would like to paint you like some kind of a monster, that's what they do to people who actually accomplish things. And you're one of those people. You're doing what needs to be done, and it pisses them off. End of story."

"Dad liked to say it too," Tony scoffed. "That what we do is a necessary evil in a kind of world we live in."

"Evil is a subjective term," Natasha said simply, and there was something peculiar about her eyes then, something Tony couldn't quite pinpoint, like something was… missing. "All right, I really gotta go," she added, turning around and heading for the door. She stopped in the doorframe for a moment, giving him a last smile and a little wave of her hand. "See you after the Operation, Stark."

"Don't get yourself killed," he said quietly, a moment before she shut the door after herself. He wasn't actually worried. Natasha Romanoff was a professional. She knew what she was doing.

And so did he.

The sun shined in red and gold over the city. There was another thing his Dad liked to say.

_Beware of the day it stops to repulse you, my boy. That would be a sign of you going too far._

That was Dad's favorite part. He never got tired of repeating it, usually into a half-full glass of scotch.

The only thing was, it stopped repulsing Tony decades ago. He didn't even remember a time when it did. His work was hard, and more often than not it called for harsh measures, but he never understood how Father seemed so burdened with what he did, how all his wealth and power seemed to weigh like stones on his shoulders.

He wasn't going to dwell on it now. After all, he still had so, so much work ahead of him.

And really, how _wrong_ could it really be if it feels so damn _right_?

* * *

Kolkata, India

The air was hot and wet and thick with the smell of raw dirt. The cabin's fickle light reflected brightly in the man's glasses and hid his eyes.

"I assume the place is surrounded?"

The woman smiled. "It is. You are not getting away this time."

"Oh," the man said, taking off the glasses, folding them and laying them carefully on the table. When he looked up at the woman again, there was a tense, savage grin on his face. "But what if I say 'no'?"

* * *

Agent Hill spotted some discrepancy in the rocky surface below her, and brought the helicopter closer to it. The unconscious man's body looked almost white among the black rocks, covered only in smears of blood, both red and dark green.

"Home base, Home base, it's Green-three. I have located the specimen, now descending for pick-up."

"_Acknowledged, Green-three. Do you require assistance?_"

"Negative. Estimated time of return - 0400 hours."

"_Green-three, we are unable to establish contact with the Green-main team and Agent Romanoff. Can you give us an update on their status?_"

Agent Hill turned off the engine of the 'copter, unbuckled the shoulder and lap harnesses and picked up the rifle charged with the tranquilizer shots.

"Yeah, I can, sir," she said, eyes fixed on the body lying outside. "They're all dead. The specimen's killed them all."

* * *

Castle Doom, Hasselstadt, Latveria

"I understand what you are trying to do, Victor, I'm just not sure I am up to the task."

"Nonsense. You're exactly what we need right now, Eric."

"What you need is...is some sort of charismatic leader, an inspiring individual like... Howlett, for example. And I'm anything but."

"Howlett switches sides to often to be trusted. Last time I checked, he was with Xavier's gang. And you... you are our best hope, Eric. After Essex's tragic demise _you_ must take his place as the voice of mutants. Those few that are still not corrupted by the influence of Stark's empire, anyway."

"You think Xavier works for Stark?"

"Absolutely. After all, he needs substantial financing for his projects as well as The Asylum, and who's better to provide it than the World's Richest Man himself? Your clash a few weeks ago - I wouldn't be surprised if it was contracted by the Iron Monger."

"And that's the other reason... We barely got out of that one with our lives and I don't...I don't want to put kids in that sort of danger anymore. Wanda is still learning to properly control her abilities, and all I wanted was to find a safe haven for her and Pietro…"

"And that's where you fail to understand that soon enough there will be _no_ safe _anywhere_, Eric. Look around! Look at the world - is this what you want to leave to your children? This insanity, this _empire_, ran by a weapons dealer and his secret police? My sources indicate that S.W.O.R.D. has been able to capture the Gamma Beast and is now trying to brainwash it to their cause. If they succeed - where do you plan to find _safe_ on this planet? You've seen what happened to Genosha, haven't you? Sure, Latveria is better off than most, and Russian District is still kicking, what with the Dynamo technology and all, but it is not enough, my friend. It's not even close. Look, I... I'm not putting any terms or anything - it's completely yours a call to make. If you say no, you're still welcome to stay here as long as you want…"

"And if I say yes?"

"If you say yes, then... I've been working on a project lately. An idea. To gather a group of remarkable people - brilliant scientists, engineers, and even occult specialists - trustworthy people who believe that the time has come and it's now or never... People who, put together, could fight battles they never could fight on their own. Could destroy Anthony Stark's golden throne. Could bring the tyrant down."

* * *

Helicarrier Mark VI, somewhere over New York Bight

These days, Tony rarely used his office on the Helicarrier. Nick handled most of the projects here so Tony could concentrate his attention on Stark Energizer network complexes in the South American District, and he was doing a pretty decent job out of it.

Still, there were some interesting developments in the Stark Industries' latest acquisition, and Tony wanted to see them with his own eyes. Operation _Emerald Hills_ ended in a disastrous loss of personnel, including some very… important agents, but it was still technically a success. The resulting Project Gamma's potential seemed unlimited, and the specimen, once properly conditioned, could be of great use in disposing of the last of the centers of resistance in the Asian and African districts, as well as a bunch of those European liberal radicals led by von Doom, whatever was the name of their little gang…

Which he would actually get at if his assistant just stopped screwing around with his schedule on a regular basis.

"_I-I'm very sorry, Mr. Stark_," the girl bleated meekly over the speakerphone. "_There is no excuse. I will reschedule the Council meeting to 3 p.m., and keep you informed on General Rhodes's progress in the Russian District. This will n-not happen again._"

"It better not to," Tony said curtly, before pressing the button on the intercom to end the call. "Useless girl..." he muttered under his breath.

"Still having problems with the new PA?" Steve smirked from where he stood near the wall-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bight. He was Tony's oldest (and what now felt like only) friend, and the engineer appreciated his presence.

He put his hands in his pockets and turned around to look at Steve from his desk. "Yeah, well, Pepper was perfect, you know. Even, what, four years later… Absolutely perfect. It's a fucking shame that she had to betray me like that, try to kill me and steal my company..." he sighed. "I mean, how am I supposed to trust people now?"

They stared at each other for a couple of seconds before bursting out laughing at the same time.

"It just never gets old, does it?" Steve chuckled. "How out of all the ambitious dimwitted bimbos trying to get the job you managed to pick out the only ambitious _and_ intelligent, not to mention unscrupulous and back-stabbing, bitch to be your PA."

"I was mostly looking at her legs at the time," Tony shrugged with a grin. "Speaking of unscrupulous, back-stabbing bitches though," he said, pressing another button on the intercom panel. "Dr. Ross, I would like a report on the Project Gamma."

A holographic display sprung to life at his words, and the image of a spacy, pristinely clean medical facility appeared before the two men. A tall dark-haired woman stood just in front of the camera, and a large, round glass construction could be seen in the background.

"The project is going steadily, Mr. Stark," the woman said, her expression a mixture of annoyance and resignation. "Some of the techniques and materials on pain stimulation offered to us by Dr. Pym brought in a lot of additional data, which, by my calculations, should speed up the conditioning process to at longest a month."

Steve noticed some motion in the glass construction area, and thought that he heard some muffled screams coming from there. Ugly screams. Hollow and hopeless and without any restraint.

"You've been going at it for a _week_ already, Doctor, do you think there wasn't enough pain stimulation?" Tony asked tiredly.

Dr. Ross frowned at that, clearly more annoyed than resigned now.

"Mr. Stark, do I have to remind you that to actually control the monster you have to gain control of the core personality first, i.e. _the man_?" she said slowly, her voice controlled and cold. "And breaking a man's mind isn't as easy as breaking his _skull_. You'll need precision and _time_, and Dr. Samson supports me in…"

"If I wanted to hear the loverboy's opinion I would've asked him, Dr. Ross," Tony cut off impatiently. "Just tell me, is it…"

He didn't get to finish that phrase, as just at that time a massive explosion rocked the Helicarrier. Tony lost his balance and would have fallen to the floor if not for Steve catching him reflectively.

The holographic feed cut off in a whizz of static, and Tony tried a couple of buttons on the panel with zero effect. Another explosion, smaller or just more distant, echoed through the whole structure of the airship, and Tony gripped the side of the table so as not to fall over this time. The emergency sirens flared up, and Steve suddenly caught a distinct smell of burnt metal and circuitry in the air.

Tony cursed loudly and went over the intercom panel once more. This time it produced an unsteady sound-only signal link mixed with a heavy dose of background static.

"Nick, what the hell is going on?" Tony barked, nails digging into the metal of the table.

The static crackled loudly for a few moments before they heard a faint, faraway sound of a voice.

"_The Helicarrier is under attack, sir, the hostiles have breached the hull on the second and third decks, reports indicate that they are led by von Doom_…"

"Shit, are there…"

This phrase was also lost in the thunderous roar of another blast, this time much, much closer. The shock wave has thrown the both men off their feet, and Steve saw a huge gash on Tony's forehead from where it collided with the floor, and barely heard the frantic, desperate words from the speaker, mixed with the sounds of fire and pain.

"_Sir, Engine 3 is critically damaged,_" Nick Fury reported in haste."_The hostiles have breached the first deck's outer perimeter, security feeds spotted Ivan Vanko, Eric Lehnsherr and a subject matching the description of Loki."_

Steve cursed under his breath, scrambling to get to his feet again. Fucking liberals, thinking they are saving the world…

"_Sir… it's the Avengers_."

* * *

Tony tried to work through the haze in his head that clouded his sight and muffled all the sounds, but it was increasingly harder to do so. He smelled smoke, burnt meat and metal, and thought he heard someone yell "They got to the containment labs! Evacuate now!", but it might have all been a dream.

He stretched out his hands, clutching at the wall, making his way down the maintenance corridor to the hangars. His head throbbed with pain, and some of his ribs were most definitely bruised, but he refused to stop for a second. Steve went to fight back the main hostile forces on the first deck, and Tony had his own things to take care of.

The suit. He only needed to get to the suit, and avoid Lehnsherr, and get to the suit, now, before they _ruined everything_…

The structure shook, and the sharp shriek of the siren cut at Tony's ears like a razor as something exploded in a shower of sparks right in front of his face.

He heard, _felt_ the metal of the nearby bulkhead ripping, saw a massive bulging form tear right through it with a terrifyingly loud roar, and flinched back instinctively, hitting his head painfully on the hard surface of the hull.

The form rushed through a hole in the bulkhead, the wounds caused by its jugged edges healing almost instantly. It was a sight to behold - a massive heap of green muscles, shifting, tensing and rippling, rumbling and growling as it snuffed the air and seared everything with the blazing green of its glare.

And then it stopped abruptly, fixing its gaze on Tony, and he could swear, for a second there, its eyes flicked deep brown and it... grinned.

"And I _told_ Ross to hurry up," Tony muttered, leaning heavily on the wall, "I fucking _told_ her."

And then everything went dark.

* * *

It wasn't something specific. No sudden sound or touch, no flash of light or a distinct smell. He just woke up, and for a second there he didn't feel a damn thing.

Then the pain came.

Tony wanted to cry out, but got a hold of himself quickly, and gritted his teeth, so the cry came out more like a loud, laboured exhale. Unfortunately, it raised a large puff of dust from the ground, that immediately got into Tony's nose, mouth and eyes, and his whole body shuddered in a fit of coughing and spitting. The motion only intensified the sharp ache in his bones, but also allowed him a moment of clarity to reflect on his position.

Sprawled on the ground. Not on the Helicarrier. Direct sunlight, lots of dust in the air, on the ground, on his wounds. Injured. Cuts and bruises. No clothes or shoes, just his briefs. Huh.

How the hell did he get here? The last thing he remembered were explosions, ripping metal, a green shadow…

The attack.

"We seem to, uh… have crashed here," Tony heard from somewhere above him. A soft, slightly mumbling voice. "The big guy got a bit overzealous with smashing through your ship, and I don't really know where we are now."

There was a sound, not unlike the rustling of fabric, and Tony tried to push himself up on the elbows to take a look at the speaking man, but his left arm gave out from under him, and he fell face first into the dust with a short gasp of pain.

"Some kind of warehouse or something," the voice continued, as if not noticing Tony's mishap at all. "No-one's around. I mean, there was a guard, but he won't bother us anymore." A sigh and a sound of steps getting closer. "So I guess it's gonna be it then."

Tony whipped his head to catch a glimpse of the stranger, then scrambled quickly to his feet, ignoring the shots of pain coursing through his body. "Who the fuck are you?"

Not a couple of yards away from him there stood a man. Not very tall, tanned, covered in dust and… buttoning up _Tony's shirt_.

"What, you were expecting to see the big guy?" the man smirked. "That's understandable. But, well, he got bored after he brought you here and, besides, I _really_ wanted to do this myself."

There was something ruthless, borderline predatory in the stranger's eyes, so Tony took a couple of steps back to put some distance between them, only to run into a wall with his bare back. He watched as the man got closer, looking pointedly at the exposed Arc reactor. "I wonder what this is supposed to be."

Tony flinched away, but stumbled on a piece of cinderblock lying on the ground, and barely managed to prevent another fall. He heaved a deep shaky breath that sent waves of fire through his ribs, and lifted his eyes at the stranger, only to find that the smirk on his face went wider and turned into a full-blown sneer. Something seemed familiar to Tony in that weary, dirty face, and he squinted his eyes to take a better look through the pain-induced haze, when it suddenly clicked. Of course, he had only seen it once or twice on a small blurred photo from the file Tasha has assembled, but there could be no mistake.

It was him. The specimen.

"Banner?!" he rasped, trying to move against the wall and away from the man. This was not going to end well. "How the… how are you…"

"Stop right there," Banner ordered quietly, taking out the gun from behind his belt, aiming it at Tony in one swift, fluid motion. He held it firmly, with both hands, like it was supposed to be held, and the expression on his face was hard as stone. "This isn't _exactly_ how I wanted it to go already, so please don't exacerbate it further by trying to 'escape'."

"Do you suggest I roll over and let you tie me up?" Tony asked in anger.

"That _was_ the plan," Banner shrugged. "Well, _actually_ I'd prefer a lab table and some titanium handcuffs," he said, making another small step towards Tony, "but I'd have to make do with what I've got, you know?"

Tony knew, knew exactly how the man felt and what he wanted to do with his hostage. He also knew that he had to find a way out of this situation, and do it soon.

"You were pumped with suppressants. How are you not out of it?" he asked quickly, stalling for time. He couldn't spot any potential weapons in the vicinity, and the only viable exit was on the other side of the warehouse, but there was a large heap of mangled concrete and reinforcement rods on his way to it…

Banner chuckled, a low, dark sound without any trace of happiness. "There is just so much more about _rage_, Mr. Stark, than is dreamt of in your philosophy…"

…if only he could disarm Banner, or even neutralize him, he got the training, shit, how was it again…

"All you have to do is _embrace_ it."

Tony didn't bother to listen to the end of that sentence as he dashed forward, hitting the other man hard on the right wrist. Banner's grip on the gun loosened, and the weapon fell off from his right hand, but he was quick enough to grab Tony's shoulder with his left, smashing it into a wall and following with a punch, swift and hard, right into Tony's solar plexus, making all the bruises and fractures and cuts explode in the engineer's body, all his nerves ignite and pierce as all the air came out of him in a rush.

"Aaah! You _fuck_!" Tony cried out once he was able to breathe again. That only made the other man chuckle though, as he picked up the pistol and stepped closer, thrusting a gun's barrel under Tony's chin, tossing his head back forcefully.

"You _wound_ me, Mr. Stark."

The gun's position on his neck made Tony want to cough, but he resisted the urge and tried to be as still as possible, struggling to get his breathing under control. "W-what, you working for Doom?" he rasped, biding himself some more time, his breath whizzing through his clenched teeth. "Wanna be a big fucking hero?"

There was a condescending, pitying gaze on Banner's face as he dug the muzzle a little further in Tony's neck. "Hero? You and I perfectly know there is no such thing."

Tony's next breath almost ended in a choke, and he felt a piercing spike of pain in the chest area. Shit, if something was wrong with the reactor he had to settle this quickly.

"What then?" he growled at the other man, even though it came out more like a gargle. "Money? You know I can fucking shower you in cash…"

"Don't embarrass yourself, Mr. Stark."

It crossed Tony's mind then that probably, just probably, he wasn't getting out of this alive. That the reason his heart was still pumping blood was not that this man wanted something from him, be it a ransom or a payment, or Tony's skills or connections.

It was a cat, playing with the mouse before eating it.

And as Banner looked at Tony with that disturbingly uneven crook of lips that substituted him a smile, an old quote came to Tony's mind about staring into the abyss. Because something about Banner's eyes looked an awful lot like… _nothing_, an empty space somewhere deep at the man's core, where it mattered, like a gaping wound. Tony knew that look, saw it before in Tasha's beautiful green eyes, on their last morning together, before she left for the mission she never came back from.

Well, Tony was not going down so easily.

"So it's just about revenge then?" he scoffed tiredly, wriggling his neck slightly, positioning his foot just a tiny bit to the left. "You get your kick watching me expire?"

Banner frowned at that. "You captured and tortured me, Mr. Stark. And _yet_, this isn't about my personal entertainment. This is about making _a point_, so all of your friends will never have an idea to come after me again with bigger needles, because I am, frankly, _sick_ of running and hiding. So I am going to make an example out of you," he said, raising his hand, keeping it just above Tony's chest. "A warning."

But then, taking a small pause as his cue, Tony jerked his head violently to the side, then ducked, and threw his shoulders forward, hitting the other man with them in the chest, bringing up his knee at the same time to give a hard kick at the man's groin.

Banner faltered, doubling in pain, and Tony seized the opportunity, grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him into the wall with all the force he could muster. There was a subtle _crack_ of bone against brick, a muffled cry, but Tony wasn't staying for the show. He wasn't even interested in trying to wrestle out the gun again, as all his instincts screamed at him to _run_.

He got as far as three steps away before a low, sharp growl pierced his ears, followed closely by the sounds of gunshots, one, two, he could make it, three, just two more steps around the pile of concrete, just one more…

Then a fourth shot rang out, and all of a sudden Tony's face was colliding painfully with the ground, and dust was filling his lungs instead of air, and white hot pain burned through his right hip.

He cried out, but even his cry couldn't drown out the heavy, rumbling breathing above him, or the sickening cracking of his ribs once the other man's foot kicked at them viciously, once and then again, rolling him onto his back, breaking the skin with the toe of Tony's own shoe.

Tony opened his eyes with great effort, and through the milky haze of pain he saw Banner kneeling over him, blood covering the side of his face, eyes hard and blazing green.

The man outstretched a hand, and pressed it to the reactor, fingers sliding over its edges, searching, then locking firmly into place. Tony's eyes widened in the knowledge of what was going to happen next, but he…

A turn, a click, a tug, a flash of white before his eyes, and Tony felt his blood go cold as he saw Banner standing before him with the Arc reactor clutched firmly in one of his hands.

"You son of a…" Tony tried to shout, but was cut off by a bolt of pain from his heart that made his mind go absolutely blank for a moment. He felt the shards near his heart shift somewhat, and panic flooded his conscience as a roaring wave. How much did he have? Not much, certainly, maybe _minutes_, fuck, who knew how much they had moved when Pepper's goons took it out four years ago, shit shit… "Give it back! Hear me?" he rasped, trying in vain to get up from the ground. "Give it back, fuck…"

"Or what?" Banner _laughed_, tossing the device up in his hand, as if playing with it. "What will happen, exactly, if it is not put back?"

"I'll _die_, that's what will happen, you fucking monster! Give it the fuck back!"

Banner's smile became smaller at that, colder, and so obviously fake it could have been painted on just as well. As Tony lunged with his good hand at the other man's arms, trying to knock out the reactor from him, Banner dodged effortlessly, and then whipped at Tony's face with the handle of the gun, sending the engineer's head reeling.

"I guess I am. A monster," he said, his voice a tight, barely controlled growl. "But when someone hits you and stabs you and cuts you open to see how you work, is it so wrong to want to get back at them? Is it so _bad_ that doing it feels so damn _good_?" he said quietly, almost intimately, looking Tony straight in the eyes. "I _like_ the way you look right now, Mr. Stark. Broken. Bloodied. Naked. All this anger and helplessness, it's exactly the way I feel most of the time."

There was that pitying twist to the man's lips again, and Tony was suddenly sorry, so sorry he wanted to hurry Ross on her 'pain stimulation' business. He should have given her all the time in the world, let her go as slowly and methodically as she liked, if only it meant the bastard would feel the same excruciating pain for every second of that time that Tony felt now.

"Cry me a fucking river, monster," he rasped, lifting himself on the elbows. "Two dozen agents sent after you were found dead. No, that's not even the right word. _Crushed_. Mutilated, torn apart. How helpless did you feel, mashing their bodies into a barely recognizable pulp of meat and blood?"

The pity was gone from Banner's grin then, replaced with cold, pure savage delight.

"I like to call things like that a 'necessary evil' in a kind of world I live in, Mr. Stark," he said in a low tone.

Tony wanted to lash out, to throw something bitter and demeaning at Banner, but the words got stuck in his throat.

Tony felt the shards of his smashed ribs pierce his tissues, and knew that his time was running out quickly. He could feel all the wounds on his body, his fast, frantic heartbeat, and, shit, it burned, burned in every goddamn nerve, and he didn't want to die like this, please, not like this, not half-naked, sprawled in the dust in the middle of fucking nowhere, at the mercy of a madman with empty eyes and empty smile, not him, not Tony fucking Stark, the Merchant of Death, the Man Who Conquered the World.

"It's what needed to be done," he heard Banner mutter under his breath, and then sigh, running a hand over his eyes, smearing the blood and dirt over them. "But let's not drag this out, shall we? As much as I would like to, this facility just isn't, uh, properly equipped. So, I can give you a quick way out, or would you rather your device do the job?"

Tony, decidedly _over _resisting the temptations, spat him in the face. That didn't seem to perturb Banner in the slightest though, seeing as he just wiped the spittle with the tips of his fingers and looked at Tony with 'oh, really?' written across his features.

Tony felt the haze beginning to settle in, felt the soft weakness warm its way throughout his body, and fought to stay conscious just as hard as he fought the aching bones and the pool of thick dark blood under his leg that prevented him from actually moving. But he was losing. The area around the reactor's case ached and burned, his fingers were almost numb, and his head felt heavier by the minute.

"It's not gonna end here," he rasped into Banner's face. "They'll gonna find you."

The man's lips curled into another fake grin, and he rose to his feet, swaying slightly, keeping a hand pressed to the side of his head.

"Who? Your little lapdogs from that giant carrier ship-thing? Doom's own hounds were managing them quite well before I left actually. I don't think they'll pose much of a threat."

Tony flinched violently as something inside of him got _pierced_ in the most painful manner. His chest felt heavy, as if a weight was pressing it down, and it was hard to breathe, but he put all of his remaining strength to pushing his weight up so he was sitting upright now. "Y-you… seriously think," he got out between shallow gulps of stale air, "that's all of 'em? I've got a fucking _empire_. Whatever hole… you crawl into, whatever godforsaken corner of this earth… My death will change nothing – they'll still gonna hunt you down like a rat you are, for all the rest of your miserable existence. And then, when paranoia finally eats away your brain, they'll gonna _have_ you and they'll _put you down_."

"No they won't, Mr. Stark. I cannot be killed."

"So you think."

"So I know," Banner muttered, eyes on the gun in his hand.

Tony squinted for a second, but then it hit him.

"You- you seriously tried to?.. and it d-didn't work?" He laughed, even though it strained all of his muscles and brought a bitter coppery taste in his mouth. "Jesus, can't even die like a man, huh, Banner? Gonna carry on like a fucking monster, a goddamned abomination you are, and…"

And there was suddenly a gun's muzzle under his chin again, pushing roughly at his throat, pushing his head hard into the ground, and Banner's face was mere inches from Tony's, his hot breath searing the engineer's cold, clammy skin.

"I am a _human being_," Banner growled, low and hoarse, eyes glowing an acidic green. "You think I'm an animal, a 'specimen', a weapon for you to _own_ and aim, but _I am human_ and I _deserve_ to be treated as such. I will _make_ them treat me as such," he added in a whisper, driving the gun even harder into Tony's throat, making him yelp and wheeze with his windpipe nearly crushed. "They think the other guy's a threat? They won't even _see it coming_."

Banner took the gun abruptly away at that, but only to hit Tony with it square on the face. Tony felt the hot blood leaking onto his skin, the searing pain of a fractured cheekbone, but his eyes got fixed on the former physicist in front of him - shaking, breathing loudly through his nose like an irritated bull, but without a trace of green on his skin. Tony spared a glance to the arc reactor in the man's other hand and noticed that it was now nothing more than a small crumpled piece of metal scrap and a few loose glass shards. Banner looked at it too, chuckled dejectedly, and threw it away.

Tony tried to get up once more, then winced right afterwards as the motion set off another wave of pain.

"It… would have failed, right?" he exhaled, a hint of wonder to his voice. "We wouldn't have broken you. Even in a… month… it would have failed."

Banner's eyes widened at that, but only for a moment, before he composed himself, heaved a shuddering sigh and made a funny motion with his free hand – reaching for the eyes, as if to grab something that clearly wasn't there.

"Thanks for the clothes, Mr. Stark, I always liked yellow," he said quietly after a pause, then raised the pistol at Tony's head. "Any last words?"

God, Tony felt so tired. He needed a fucking vacation. He hasn't had a vacation since Pepper's death, and that was clearly way too long.

"I'm not… sorry… for wanting to use… the creature."

"I thought as much," Banner murmured.

"But I wish I…" Tony struggled to form words. He was not afraid. Not anymore. Now there was just this one last thing he wanted to say. "Wish I'd noticed the monster… hiding in plain… sight. Bet no-one did, huh? So much… more… dangerous."

And for the first time since the start of this conversation, there was a small, gentle, genuine smile on Banner's lips.

Tony got it, really, he did. So he closed his eyes, inhaled, and listened to the sounds of dust floating in the air around him. And right before the thundering blast of the shot he caught it – coming from somewhere far, far away, something like a whisper, barely there.

A soft, slightly mumbling, "Thanks."

* * *

A/N: It was actually the first chapter I planned out back in winter, and the most difficult one to write. Inspired by the _Earth's Mightiest Heroes_ episode "Emperor Stark", and _Star Trek: Enterprise_ episode "In the Mirror, Darkly".

Howard Stark was an Actual Good Parent. Thor took the throne of Jotunheim with thunder and blood. Loki's an Actual Avenger. Agent Clint Barton grew a conscience and became a double agent for von Doom. Cap was executed during the seizure of the Helicarrier. Bruce Banner's journey through the night will continue.

I hope you had fun reading this, and it'd be wicked cool if you left me a review, if you have time.

_Next time in Kaleidoscope_: I have no idea. I have several half-baked things, but none of them finished, so.


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